A Dish Best Served
by A Damned Scientist
Summary: Scarrans and Ice Cream. Rygel isn't happy about sharing his food.


**A Dish Best Served…**

**Rating: PG for gratuitous violence and, as they say on kids' videos, mild peril. Plus some greedy gobbling of food, done in a manner that you wouldn't want your children to read about.**

**Setting: Immediately after PKW. Your choice as to whether this makes it filler or AU.**

**Disclaimer: Not for profit, not mine etc. Once again, everything belongs to Rygel. He owns it all.**

**Stacchio, a field operative in Scarran Special Operations, allowed himself a small frisson of self-congratulation on how well his mission had gone so far: He had successfully infiltrated the criminals' leviathan during the peace treaty negotiations, near where Qujaga had once been, and had then hidden, and waited. His instructions had been quite clear: Wait for the criminals to get far from any possible aid, then subdue them using any force necessary, activate the homing beacon and await pick up from the first Scarran vessel to come by.**

**The criminals had been too pre-occupied with their own petty problems, plans and triumphs to conduct a thorough enough search of the leviathan. Once they had starburst away from Qujaga, Stacchio had waited for the sleep-cycle and then struck.**

**The human, his Peacekeeper mate (and their offspring) had been easier to secure than he had expected. He knew of their exploits and well understood that they were formidable opponents and not to underestimated. But, in the event, he had surprised them as they slept and overcome them with barely a struggle. Stacchio imagined that this was probably owing to their exhaustion after recent events at the water planet, and before that on the Decimator. **

**Once Stacchio had restrained the primary targets, he had swiftly moved to deal with the Nebari and the Luxan half-breed: They had scarcely been any more trouble, Stacchio reflected, as he inspected the insignificant cut to his torso which the Nebari had inflicted on him whilst he was dealing with the half-Luxan. And then, of course, the two remaining crew members, the old Traskan and the Hynerian, had put up no resistance. He hadn't expected them to. Weak species.**

**So now, having activated his beacon, all he had to do was wait: It would take a few solar days for the Dreadnought to reach them, such had been the distance the leviathan had covered in it's starburst from Qujaga. Still, that suited Stacchio and his superiors as it reduced the likelihood anyone, especially the Peacekeepers or Luxans, would stumble across them and be able to interfere with their plans. Stacchio knew well what a great prize he had secured, and what it would mean for his own status. Apart from the possibility of gaining the wormhole weapon, his superiors had a number of scores to settle with this crew, especially with the human and the Peacekeeper. He knew that he could expect a substantial reward for his success.**

**After a few arns alone on command, he had grown both bored and hungry and had gone to talk with the Hynerian and Traskan, who he had restrained in the same cell for ease of monitoring. He wanted to ask them about what foods were available on Moya. Stacchio reckoned that the gluttonous old Hynerian would have the most thorough knowledge of the foods available on the ship, and would also be the one most easily persuaded to share such knowledge.**

'**Oh, we have so many foods aboard Moya,' Enthused the foolish old woman, whilst the Hynerian was initially silent, obviously hiding something. 'Earth delicacies are the best…'**

'**Silly old witch, you don't want to share our best stuff…' interjected Rygel, clearly irritated at his stomach being betrayed by the Traskan, before he was silenced by a blast of hot breath from Stacchio. The Scarran concluded that he may have been wrong: It seemed that the Traskan was what passed for the cook on this pathetic vessel, and thus it seemed that she might have the best knowledge of what foods they had. It also seemed she was eager to share her knowledge with him. Silly old fool, did she think he might regard such cooperation as a favour to be repaid? Ha: She would learn, for as long as she survived.**

'**Traskan, you will prepare for me the best meal that this ship has to offer.' Rygel looked shocked. The Scarran wanted them to share not just their food, but their best food. The horror! **

'**And the Hynerian and yourself will act as my food tasters.' Remembering the dermafolica incident at the border station near Katratzi, Rygel was now even more horrified at the thought of tasting the witch's food than he had been when she had offered to share with the Scarran. 'To make sure that it is not poisoned.'**

**Stacchio watched, amused as the two incompetent fools bustled around the central chamber, preparing his feast. He would have to ask that these two be provided to him as playthings for a weeken or so, as part of his reward for capturing the Crichton.**

'**Rygel, leave that alone!' fussed Noranti as she briefly chewed on some herb or other, nodded to herself, and spat it into her steaming cauldron.**

'**Noranti, do you remember that feast we went to in New York, on Earth?' Rygel asked casually, peering cautiously into the cauldron, as though he was afraid the contents would leap out and assault him.**

'**Oh yes,' came the too-enthusiastic reply of someone who didn't seem able to grasp when things around her were looking grim.**

'**Do you remember the dessert?' **

'**Oh…. YES,' she said with a blissful expression. **

'**Just the thing for Scarrans, hey?'**

'**Ohhhh!' replied the Traskan as realisation dawned. Looking at her, Rygel at last understood the human's strange expression about the other shoe dropping.**

'**Well, I think Crichton has a recipe for it in one of those books in his quarters,' Rygel mentioned as he peered once more into the Stygian depths of the pot.**

'**You haven't been going through their things again, have you?' scolded Noranti. 'Aeryn will kill you…'**

'**Would I?' he demurred. 'Besides, do you think she'll get her chance, now?' Rygel grinned.**

'**Rygel…' Noranti scolded and smiled at him indulgently, before saying, 'I'm not sure I could follow that, those books are all written in ooman. And we wouldn't have all the ingredients.' **

'**Oh, just make it up:'**

'**Make it up?'**

'**Like you always do: You know what it should come out like.'**

'**I can't make it all up…'**

'**I think Aeryn brought some of the special ingredients back to Moya, you know, as a present for John. You know the controlled storage down in cargo bay six, treblin side?' Rygel made it a point of honour to always find out where the best food was being stored.**

'**Oh yes! May I go and check?' the Traskan asked Stacchio, clapping her hands with glee.**

**Stacchio considered the request. He didn't fear the old crone: What could she do to him, a Scarran? He couldn't allow his prisoners to wander around and visit each other unattended, but yet he couldn't imagine the old woman would risk her shipmates' lives if he let her loose unescorted on the rest of the ship . 'We go to the cells together, fetch this "book", and then we will discuss further,' the Scarran insisted.**

**Rygel had no trouble locating the right cookbook, ignoring as best he could the thick, barrack-room profanities of Aeryn, the more elaborate curses and protests of Crichton and the distressed screams of the unattended Deke. Afterwards, the three would-be gourmands made their way back to the central chamber. There, Noranti finished work on the main course while she looked at the pictures in the book**

'**Dominar Rygel, could you entertain our guest over his main course, while I get the ingredients and prepare dessert?' The Scarran snarled, wishing to remind them who was in charge here and who were the prisoners. 'If that is acceptable to you, oh great…..' **

'**Go,' the Scarran commanded, waving her away. The central chamber would certainly be less pungent and more peaceful without her, he mused.**

**With a nervous grin, Rygel settled himself across the table from the Scarran. Daring to pop some of the old witch's peculiar-smelling stew into his mouth, Rygel asked, 'How would you like to know about the end of the infamous Zelbinion and it's captain, Selko Durkha? I'm sure, as a Scarran, you'll find the story most entertaining…'**

'**Entertain me, then, Hynerain. If you don't measure up….. I can always eat you!' Stacchio laughed menacingly.**

**Noranti arrived back from the storage bay, laden with ingredients. She was heartily grateful that Rygel seemed to have the full attention of the hateful lizard-creature with some grotesque story about a severed head.**

**Her preparations soon completed, Noranti bustled over to Rygel and the Scarran, holding out a platter bearing two pale, round steaming puddings, fresh from the oven. To her relief, the Scarran barely glanced at her or the food.**

'**Here!' the Scarran commanded, sweeping his previous dishes onto the floor and jabbing at the table in front of him with a fresh spoon.**

'**Oh, they must be eaten whole!' insisted Noranti. Stacchio turned his full attention to her for the first time since she had returned with the ingredients. He surveyed the two hot, delicacies and the steam rising off them with suspicion. 'Here, I'll show you.'**

'**Ha, you don't get to eat it, witch' cackled Rygel, Zooming over to her on his throne sled, he snatched one pudding and thrust it whole into his mouth, 'It was my idea, I get to do the food tasting!' He said, after a long swallow followed by a broad, satisfied grin.**

**Stacchio chortled and picked up the remaining pudding, following Rygel's lead. 'What did you say this was called, asked Stacchio, before abruptly falling from his seat, clutching at his throat and chest.**

**Rygel immediately set about the incapacitated Scarran with a large kitchen knife and a savagery that truly shocked the old Traskan, despite her many years. 'That's for stealing my lunch,' he spat as the knife went in the first time. 'And that's for depriving my godson of his lunch!' he added as the knife went in again. A murderous smile moved from Rygel's eyes to his mouth as he prepared to deliver the killing blow. 'And it's called Baked Alaska,' he sneered, plunging the knife in again. 'Henceforth my favourite dish!'**

**The end. Coffee and biscuits, anyone?**


End file.
